


Day 7. Prickly

by Munnin



Series: Fictober [7]
Category: Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, non-graphic references to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-26 01:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16209731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munnin/pseuds/Munnin
Summary: Sometimes a drink is not enough. Sometimes there are other itches to be scratched.Sister story toTrooper study - Ridley and Gleebwhich I recommend you read first.





	Day 7. Prickly

**Author's Note:**

> Red Mist Squad based on characters created by Joe Hogan for the [ The Siren of Dathomir](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3z0kyf53Ds) and [ Panic Over Muunilinst](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I3-_EnhMEDE). Stolen, run away with, and abused with his permission.

79’s wasn’t the only clone bar on Coruscant. It was just the most popular, and the best known. 

On the very rare occasions they got some down time, it was usually where the Red Mist squad started, before each going their own ways for whatever interested them.

Skate usually stayed for one drink, something low intoxicant and light before heading off to places other pilots could be found. Where stories and star maps could be traded. 

Fernie was a surprisingly heavy drinker and known to drink Rezz, Jat, and Crispy under the table. And unlike the others, he was always bright and cheerful the next day. Whereas they woke up swearing they’d never drink with him again. 

Linc would have a few drinks with the squad, usually laying a few credits on which of his crew would end up falling over first before vanishing into 79’s quieter corners to talk with people he knew. Supports were infamous for maintaining networks of contacts, and Linc was one of the best. Fordo never questioned the legality of how Linc acquired the non-regulation items the squad sometimes ended up with. Mostly because it was just best not to know. 

Wrathor, Ridley, and Gleeb usually hit the gaming area. Not cards or dice, never anything to be gambled on, but games of skill and dexterity. Usually played for bragging rights or the next round of drinks. Foozzeball, table hoops or nineball were their preferences. Games were more fun when you’d had a couple of drinks.

But tonight… tonight Gleeb felt restless. He wouldn’t find his groove in their game of nineball and kept missing shots. He couldn’t find that perfect level of drunk where skill mattered less than luck. 

He felt… tight, like his skin was new armour that pinched in the wrong spots. Like he wanted to drink harder or start a fight. Or punch someone. Only… he didn’t really want to do any of those things. 

He downed his drink and tossed his stick on the table. “I’m going for a walk.”

Ridley leaned on his own stick, watching his brother’s face. It wasn’t like Gleeb to walk away halfway through a game. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just need air. Don’t wait up for me.” Gleeb knew sooner or later someone would suggest another bar and those left standing (or not already occupied) would move on. He didn’t want them waiting around for him. 

He headed outside and, on a whim, took a skycar down a few levels. There was a park that wound its way between buildings a couple of levels down. Not a particularly safe place to be at night but not exactly dangerous either. Just not… respectable. 

He knew it was the sort of place he might be able to find something to salve the prickly feeling under his skin. 

After a few minutes strolling, it found him. In the form of a young Pantoran man. In tight black pants laced up the sides and a flowing jacket worn open. His bare chest was covered in silver tattoos that matched his long hair. 

Attitudes towards sexuality within the clone trooper ranks was changing. There was a time it was considered an aberration, something to be embarrassed by, kept hidden. But more recently batched clones were opening up about their desires, even openly flaunting them. There were pictures of Twi'lek dancers in the freshers of 79’s, and holos playing on the bar. And more often now, women of a dozen species could be found mixing at the bar. 

It all made Gleeb feel old. And a little bit broken. His own interests were less… conventional, and something he still felt shame about. 

It wasn’t about gender or species for Gleeb. What he desired was beauty. 

What he ached for was warmth and softness. The feel of skin without blood or dirt or pain. Something untouched by the war and death. There was so much beauty in the galaxy and Gleeb needed to remind himself it existed. Remind himself what they were fighting to protect. To relish it and hold it on his heart. A light against the darkest moments.

Which is why he was there, following the Pantoran back to some private place.

“What’s your name?” Gleeb asked as the Pantoran accepted his credits and closed the door behind them. It was a small room, lit with dim floor lamps designed to make the shabbiness feel deliberate. It was probably not a room one wanted to see in full light but the low warm lamps made the jewel-toned blankets and wall-covers somehow sumptuous and inviting. 

“Do you need to know my name?” The Pantoran asked, shedding his jacket in a careless gesture that was just as deliberate. The lines of his body were long and lean, the silver tracery of tattoos catching the light as he unbound his hair.

The desire to give in to the illusion warred in Gleeb. He was caught between his recon training - to record and analyse, and his need to stop seeing everything, to suspend disbelieve and give into the fantasy. Just for a little while. Just for one night. “Guess not.”

He stepped to the Pantoran and wrapped an arm around the slender blue-skinned waist, and gave in. 

***

He woke to crashing and Ridley’s voice, low and angry. He felt groggy and odd.

Ridley had the Pantoran by the throat, blue feet dangling off the floor as Ridley demanded to know where _it_ was. 

In their time together, Gleeb had never seen Ridley so angry, so harsh. 

When the whore refused to answer, Ridley shook him harder, finally getting the information he wanted. 

In the upper corner of the room, hidden by shadows was a holo recorder. 

Ridley threw the Pantoran at Gleeb’s feet and climbed up, ripping the recorder off the wall. “We got lucky.” He muttered, pulling the thing apart. “It’s a cheap model, no broadcast function.” He pulled out the recorder disc and tossed it to Gleeb before crushing the rest under his boot. 

Gleeb turned the little disc over and over, trying to comprehend its existence. “What were you planning to do with this? Blackmail?” 

The Pantoran whimper, trying to make some excuse. Something about clone porn fetching a good price on the black market. Especially if it was rough.

Only then Gleeb realised the young Pantoran’s body was mottled with bruises. Bruises that matches the shape and size of Gleeb’s hands. 

How? He never… that wasn’t something he… He didn’t enjoy even the thought of-

Violence was the opposite of what he wanted, what he craved. What he had gone there for. How had it come to that? He couldn’t remember doing anything to the Pantoran that could have bruised him like that. 

Truth be told, he didn’t remember much after that first kiss…

“This ends now.” Ridley kicked the Pantoran hard. “You got that? If I find anything like this being traded, I’ll be back. And you’ll find out what rough really feels like.” He pulled Gleeb to his feet, dragging him out the door. 

In the bitter light of day, the area looked run down and dirty. Just as Gleeb felt. He swallowed the urge to throw up, his stomach roiling like a bad landing. “I didn’t. Ridley, you have to know. I would never-”

“I know.” Ridley half walked, half dragged him onto a skycar, directing it back to the barracks. “You were drugged.” He pressed a bottle of electrolytes into Gleeb’s hand. “Drink this.”

The bitter mineral taste matched Gleeb’s mood, but it did help. “Thanks. For the save.”

Ridley huffed and shook his head. “That’s what we do. We watch out for each other. Just… next time you feel the need to scratch that itch, tell me. I know a place, okay. Somewhere better, and a whole lot cleaner.” 

Gleeb could feel himself redden, aware of how much Ridley had just confided in him. He knew Ridley felt desire too, but they never talked about it. Never mentioned it aloud. “Thanks. I… I will. The others… don’t need to know?” 

Ridley nodded tightly, “No-one needs to know. This never goes beyond us.”

**Author's Note:**

> Josh, you awesome man. Thank you for everything.


End file.
